


the great perhaps

by lapses_of_time



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alice Cooper is the worst, Archie POV, Archie is oblivious, But we still love him, F/M, He just has to recognise he is a shit upon occasion, Some jealousy ish, angsty archie, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-08 00:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10373136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapses_of_time/pseuds/lapses_of_time
Summary: Betty has Jughead, and Jughead has Betty. But Archie has music. And who knows? Maybe he'll write a song about it some day.Archie has some late night thoughts.or, Betty gets sick and Alice Cooper gets suspicious.





	

It wasn’t sexual. Or at least, it wasn’t sexual in the way that you’re thinking, this incessant thrumming in Archie Andrew’s gut.  
Sure, she looked pretty, dressed in borrowed clothes and sunlight, smile splitting her face and softening everything it touched. Come to think of it, Judghead wasn’t looking half bad either, his trouser legs too long and his shirt too tight, eyes melting in a way that made Archie ache to watch.  
Every so often, Betty would reach up and brush his hair out of his face, and Judghead’s entire body would smile at her, and it was somehow impossible to watch, that little exchange of tenderness between them, the two people who mattered so much to him, yet he couldn’t bring himself to turn away.  
Betty could do that now. Could reach up and brush his hair out of his face. And Jughead could kiss her, if he wanted, reach down and close that tiny sliver of space between them, his hand resting just behind her ear in that space Archie knew Jughead’s hand had been countless times before. And that was the most ridiculous part of it all. This wasn’t some newfound intimacy. Hand on his cheek, leg across her lap, a small pressure on his shoulder, his chin resting atop her head. Archie doubted there had been more than a foot of space between Betty and Jughead since they’d begun dating at age 16.  
It was just that it was so obvious they belonged to each other, twined up together in this instant. Betty had Jughead, and Jughead had Betty, and Archie... Archie had music. It hasn’t occurred to him that maybe that bothered him. Not until now.  
He’d met Betty Cooper when he was four, and Jughead Jones when he was six. So far as he knew, Betty and Jughead hadn’t exchanged two words until they were nine- going on nineteen. And even then, they were only casual acquaintances- his, Archie’s, first, and anything else second. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care. But it did, and he did.  
Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones belonged to him, and the fact that they now also belonged to each other made them feel so much less his own.  
I can’t give you the answer you want, he’d said to her. I didn’t mean all that crap I said to you, he’d said to him. But it didn't matter. Betty and Jughead had belonged to each other long before he’d even known their names. 

It started with Betty Cooper getting sick, and in hindsight, he should’ve known right then. Betty Cooper didn’t get sick, ever. Their entire grade had been taken down by bubonic plague when they were seven, even the teachers, which back then was a pretty big deal considering that teachers were definitely robots who plugged into the school computers to recharge when the students weren’t around.  
Archie managed to convince himself he was dying, and Betty didn’t even blink. She just sat with him the entire week, putting on puppet shows with his dirty socks and fetching him grossly over concentrated orange squash. At the time he thought it was her superpower, like maybe she was magic. When he got older, he figured that it would take a lot more than some puny virus to take down Elizabeth Cooper’s insanely overactive brain or far reaching compassion. She was kind in a way that should be impossible. He wondered when Judghead started to notice that about her. He wondered when he’d stopped.  
Either way, on the 8th May Betty was asleep on the common room sofa with her head in Jughead’s lap, the rest of her friends as far away as they could get without ending up out the door.  
Veronica grinned at a particularly dirty look from Jughead. “Hey, I brought her a milkshake from Pop’s last night, took extra detailed notes in chem, and held her hair back while she vomited at lunch. Which totally put me off my food, FYI. Sympathy should only be taken so far, and I’m far too pretty to die.”  
Jughead frowned at the clock. “I’m still not sure I shouldn’t call Nurse Ratched. Or Polly.”  
“Polly picks up Jason from day care at three.” Veronica reminded me. “She’s not going to want those germs anywhere near her kid. And trust me, the very last thing B wants right now is her mother quizzing her on the shade of her lipstick or her night-time activities at the blue and gold. The details of which would put anyone off their dinner, I’m sure.” She added to Cheryl, who had put down her spoon with a look of disgust.  
Archie’s pen paused.  
“The blue and gold?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.  
“Oh my god, we are so not discussing this while I’m eating.” Cheryl chimed in, flicking her spoon at Archie.  
“Except we are totally discussing this, all the time, for the rest of forever.” Kevin grinned, collapsing into a chair beside Ronnie. “Betty’s still refusing to give me anything. Spill.”  
“That’s because Betty believes in keeping her private life private.” Jughead quipped with a sardonic smile- or maybe that was invention. The Jughead of Archie’s imagination never blushed, was never fazed. And Archie had returned to his sheet music far too quickly to catch the uncomfortable retraction of Jughead’s gaze.  
Jughead ended up taking Betty back to his flat (“Oi oi” Kevin and Veronica had laughed. “She’s sick” an irritated Jughead had replied, probably rolling his eyes.)  
And that was it. Archie went back to his song. But when he looked back there was an intensity about them he hadn’t noticed before, a chord between Betty and Jughead pulled taut and tense even whilst she slept. They’d always been touchy feely, soft and comfortable and safe in a way Archie couldn’t remember ever seeing either of them before.  
For as long as he’d known them, Betty Cooper had liked predictability and Judghead Jones had despised anyone else in his personal space. Yet somehow, somewhere, due to some weird collision of circumstance totally beyond their control, they fit. 

Veronica once told him that when she moved up to Riverdale, she decided to live her life by one deceptively simple rule. “Don’t be a dick.”  
It’s really not that hard, she’d shrugged, stealing a bite of his ice cream and grinning when he glared. Archie plays the words over his head, now, as he watches his two best friends become something different and beautiful and utterly remote from him.  
Don’t be a dick. It’s really not that hard.  
Maybe not, but only in hindsight. Everywhere Archie looks he sees his blunders, sees the careless, casual wounds that he never meant to inflict, those hurts everyone but him seemed to be able to predict.  
He met Betty Cooper when he was four, and it had barely seemed important. In fact, he’d almost forgotten entirely, only reminded by his dad, three glasses of eggnog in on a Christmas Eve when they were twelve. He'd nearly forgotten, yet his world had changed shape forever that day, swinging on its axis and juddering to a stop, before swinging back into motion in glorious technicolour lights.  
She was planting flowers in her window box, trowel moving in and out of the earth with unwonted vigour, causing little rainfalls of soil to spill out of the sides and splatter onto the dry slabs of concrete below. Archie was sulking after his mum told him he couldn’t have something- unimportant and long forgotten- retreating to his windowsill to tap listlessly at a toy xylophone and look out for his dad’s return.  
“Your music is pretty.” Small Betty had informed him, smiling at him from across the gap between their houses in a way that made her dimples flash.  
“It’s just noise.” Replied little Archie, a slight rush of heat colouring his cheeks, self conscious before he even knew what self conscious meant.  
She shrugged. “Still pretty. You wanna play?”  
“Play what?” he’d asked, frowning.  
“I don’t know. You look sad by yourself.” Archie considered this, turning his head to the side, before nodding in acceptance. Without brothers or sisters or any particular play mates to speak of, Archie Andrews had been a rather lonely child.  
“Alright. I’m Archie, who’re you?”  
“I’m-”  
“Elizabeth!”  
The expression on Alice Cooper’s face the first time Archie ever saw her, on the other hand, would not be something he would ever find easy to forget. She glared up at them like a witch in a fairytale, soil scattered in her hair and teeth bared as if preparing to roast them over an open fire and consume them whole.  
“What have I told you about talking to strangers?”  
It wasn’t like hearing his mum tell him off for sneaking into the treat cupboard before dinner, or his dad telling him not to run too far ahead at the park. Hearing Alice Cooper reprimand her daughter, Archie felt like some pantomime villain had just sent a whispering breath down the back of his neck, and it was all he could do not to snap the window straight shut.  
If his mum had shouted at him like that, Archie was certain he would have dissolved into tears on the spot. But Betty just sighed, soft and quiet and sad, and grins an apologetic goodbye.  
Bars appear at the window next to his the following day, preventing her from letting a breath of air into her room, or a cheerful greeting for the boy next door out. It would be 10 years until Betty could persuade them to take them down.  
It occurs to Archie that maybe he wasn’t the only one who was lonely that day. 

“Archie? Are you listening to me?”  
An almost imperceptible widening of her eyes. That was the only indication that Betty Cooper might be pissed. Not that it really mattered- Archie had stopped looking for those signs years ago, back when he realised that there was nothing Betty would resent him for, nothing he could do that was unforgivable.  
She’d never been like other girls he knew. As long as Archie checked in every couple of weeks, Betty thrived best when left alone, possessing a total self sufficiency that made him envious and weirdly ashamed.  
“I was just saying that I’ve been keeping the ladder in my room.” She told him, stirring her milkshake and avoiding his eye. “My parents are being weird. It’s probably nothing, but I want to have an escape route mapped out just in case.”  
Laughter bubbles in his throat at her earnest expression, the sweet anxiety rising behind her eyes. “A little melodramatic, isn’t it?” he asks her, but pulls up short when real worry flashes across her face, her hand going to the back of her neck. That had always been Judghead’s nervous tick, and for a moment the utter familiarity of the gesture combined with the alien wrongness of it on Betty, throws him off entirely.  
Soap scents the air between them- Jughead’s soap, he realises- and he wonders how his friend will get through Betty’s window if she’s keeping the ladder in her room.  
“They’ve been talking a lot about Polly. About how much she’s improved since her stay in the home, dropping hints about how I’m worrying them, how they’re concerned about my mental health.”  
A low whistle escapes Archie, and Betty nods in grim confirmation. “I found a razor blade in my drawer the other day. I can’t be sure but I think- I think mum put it there. She was hovering for ages, rifling through my underwear like there was something she expected to find.”  
This protective instinct he can’t quite explain wraps around Archie, has him reaching across the table too fast to grab both her hands. “Don’t stay there. There’s loads of places you could go, I’m sure any one of us would be happy to take you- you can come stay with me, or Hermione, or even-”  
He doesn’t know why there has to be an even, why Jughead has to be a last resort. And he cannot explain even to himself why he stutters over his friend’s name, lodged in his throat and refusing to take shape in the air between them. Either way, Betty seems to sense it in the offering, looking up at Archie’s face with an expression halfway between miserable and amused.  
Tears cling to her lashes, and he pushes the air from his lungs in one short huff.  
“I can’t.” She breathes, her voice breaking just a little, and it’s that more than anything which almost destroys him, the lump in his throat throbbing painfully. She looks so tired, his friend, heavy bruises shadowing the skin under her eyes. And god, how had he failed to notice how pale she’d gotten, no colour to her at all underneath some hastily applied powder and a quick coat of lipstick.  
“I can’t leave.” She repeats more clearly, her chin up and her smile more assured as she squeezes his hand. “Not until I know for sure. They’re my parents and I- I’d never forgive myself if I ruined things beyond repair. I need to know for sure.”  
He wanted to fight her, to scream at her and challenge her and wear her down until she gave in, until she was somewhere warm and safe and happy, somewhere this absurd suburban horror movie couldn’t touch her. More than that, he wanted to comfort her, but somewhere along the way he’d lost sight of how. Jughead. Where was Judghead?  
Usually, a small voice at the back of his mind answers him, exactly where Betty needs him to be. It was part of what he loved about Jughead. You could let him down endlessly, hurt him in ridiculous and thoughtless ways, and he’d still turn up exactly where you needed him to be.  
Forcing down his panic, he offers Betty a smile, squeezing the cold hand clasped in his. “You want a milkshake? On me.”  
As long as he’d known her, Betty had never been able to turn down a second helping of Pop’s malt shake. But she eyes the half full glass in front of her with a look of nauseous distrust, suddenly green and grimacing. “Thanks, Arch, but I’d rather just get the bill. I should probably head home, mum’ll be wondering where I am.”  
“You’re not still sick?” he asks, waving at Pop and looking at her through narrowed eyes.  
Betty gives him a tired, cryptic smile, dragging a hand through her hair, and a horrifying idea falls into place in Archie’s head with sickening certainty.  
“Hey Betts?” he catches her shoulder at the door, suddenly hot and uncomfortable and tempted to look anywhere but her eyes. “You know I love you, right?”  
“Yeah, Arch. I know.” She laughs, pushing the door open with her spare hand and giving him an amused smile.  
“And you’d tell me if anything was going on?” A simple question, yet for a second he swears he sees doubt in her face. If you’re around, those green eyes accuse. If you’re in any mood to listen. Or maybe that was just his conscience staring back.  
But then it’s gone, and it’s just Betty laughing at him as she steps outside into the bright sunlight of the parking lot. “Alright weirdo.” She grins. “C’mon, I wanna stop at Polly’s on the way back.”  
“That child hates me.”  
“You stole his bunny.”  
“He dribbled on my guitar!” 

He’d been shit to them. Shit in the way human beings are usually shit to those they care about most, but shit nevertheless.  
It wasn’t anything big, nothing an outsider might notice or their other friends might confront him about. It was eating the last of the poptarts Jughead had bought even though he knew cherry was Jughead’s favourite, and pretending not to see Betty’s text when he was playing video games with Ronnie. It was heading to dinner without Jughead because he hated the football guys anyway, and it was prioritising a date with Val over studying with Betty. It was forgetting to listen when Betty talked, and it was neglecting to notice when Jughead turned up to school without breakfast for the sixth day in a row. It was assuming that because they were a couple now, they wouldn’t need him. It was taking them for granted, and being offended when they did the same.  
Archie first met Jughead when he was six years old, and he wouldn’t ever forget it. He’d been eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in his dad’s tin can office and pretending he couldn’t hear the jeering of the older boys by the door. He was just gearing himself up to face them- they probably only wanted his twinkie, after all, not a high price to pay for being left alone- when a small fist appeared out of nowhere and knocked the middle boy down the steps.  
Jughead got his first black eye that day, and into a ton of trouble besides. But it didn’t matter, because that day Archie Andrews became Judghead Jones’ first ever friend.  
It should be noted that Archie was called upon to throw more punches for Jughead than Jughead was ever called upon to throw for Archie. With a name such as Judghead Jones (the third), this cannot come as a surprise. But the fact remained that Jughead had protected Archie when he felt incapable of protecting himself. And even if Archie punched a thousand bullies, it would never feel like enough. He would always have red in his ledger. 

July fourth weekend, after attending what felt like the 30-somethingth memorial for Jason Blossom, Archie and Jughead celebrated with a six pack of Fosters and a half full bottle of vodka.  
It must be noted that in 12 years of knowing Jughead, Archie had only ever seen him drink twice, both times before his dad lost his job, when they were just teenagers testing the water and too young to understand what addiction even meant. When she’d found out, Jughead’s mum had been livid, crying and screaming herself hoarse as Jughead asked her again and again what it was that he’d done. It was a week after that FP fell off the wagon for the first time in 14 years, smashing photo frames and stumbling over words Jellybean was far too little to hear. Jughead came to school next day with a bruise on his face from where the bathroom door had been slammed in his face- an accident, Fred told Archie with conviction over dinner that night, which he was certain FP would feel guilty about for the rest of his days- and red rimmed eyes. They never talked about what had happened. And Archie never saw Jughead touch a drop of anything until today.  
Which is why he was so surprised when Jughead asked him whether he wanted to go down to the lake after the memorial. One search through Archie’s dads cupboard later, however, and go down to the lake they had, and though Archie caught Jughead looking at the can in his hand with an expression of almost comical distrust more than once, Jughead swallowed the stuff with very little complaint, and even seemed to enjoy it a little.  
More than a little tipsy, but with a strange effusive happiness he hadn’t experienced in a while, Archie collapsed onto Jughead’s stained couch, sinking into the lump in the middle cushion before he realised what was happening.  
“Nothing with scream in the title. I don’t want Wes Craven tonight.” Jughead calls from the bathroom, and Archie laughs a laugh low in his chest which quickly turns into a hiccup.  
Jughead was a nice drunk, Archie decided, as he listened to the clicking noise the DVDs made when they hit each other like dominos, rifling through Jughead’s collection for something they might both enjoy. The alcohol had made him quiet at first, and then loud and a little smiley, but beyond that he wasn’t sure there had been much of an effect. Archie felt like he’d been on a carousel for a week as he tried to steady his hand enough to crack open the packet of crisps, but Jughead just swallowed a glass of water and sat down beside him, an amused expression crinkling up the corners of his eyes.  
“Hey Jug?” Archie asked, abandoning the crisp packet in defeat and turning to look at his friend in calculation.  
“I’m not watching a Nightmare on Elm Street, either. Or anything involving eyes.”  
“No." Archie slurs slightly, then swallows hard and tries again, frowning in an attempt to clear his head. "I was actually wanting to talk to you. 'Bout Betty.”  
Jughead’s eyebrows lift under a wave of dark hair. “Betty? I don’t think she’d be up for Wes Craven either.”  
“I just-” his hand came up to rub the back of his neck, and Jughead fought a smile. Archie glared at him. “Did you do stuff in the blue and gold break room?”  
“Stuff?” Jughead scoffed.  
Archie didn’t know what he’d expected- maybe a little anger, or uncomfortable stuttering and blushing and avoidance of his eye. What he wasn’t prepared for was Judghead’s laughter, looking at his friend incredulously as his wry amusement spilled into the room, shining so brightly Archie almost looked away.  
“Okay, Ronnie's always talking. You might wanna be careful about when you listen." He says finally, hand moving over his upper lip as if to rid himself of a sardonic smile. “Betty Cooper in the dusty back room of the blue and gold? Not very hygienic, is it? And how many girls have you taken back there, Archie?”  
Archie put up his hands, conciliatory. “I’m not judging- I know I’ve no right to judge- I just-”  
The smile slips off Jughead’s face. “You think Betty might be pregnant.” He finished, raising his eyebrows. “Is that it?” He shook his head, his eyes dark and suddenly faintly dangerous. Archie fights the urge to get up from his seat and back out of the room. “That’s pretty impossible. Not that there’s enough evidence in the world enough to convince tweedledum and tweedledee over there.” He jerks a thumb in the vague direction of Betty’s house, his agitation rising. “Even if that break room could tell tales, it wouldn’t be saying anything about us. But it doesn't matter, since Betty’s parents are convinced they’re raising Polly Cooper 2.0.”  
“So she’s just got a stomach bug?”  
Jughead sighs, leaning back into his seat and throwing his arm over his eyes. “Seems pretty persistent for a stomach bug. I think maybe it’s stress- she’s putting so much pressure on herself right now, with the paper and college and those long shifts at Comet’s-” Archie’s stomach tightens. Just add that to the list of things he didn’t know.  
Jughead clears his throat uncomfortably.  
“Hey, I’m sorry if I overstepped-”  
“Don’t worry about it. Just play whatever crappy horror movie you’ve got in your hand and pass me the pretzels.”  
And when the closing credits rolled, Archie couldn’t resist nudging a sleeping Jughead with his foot and saying “So all those times you disappeared through Betty’s bedroom window, you were doing what exactly? Playing chess?”  
He expected to get shoved off the couch and hit in the head with the remote, but Jughead just gave him a completely illicit grin. “Before I answer that, you wanna tell me how exactly we’re defining ‘stuff’?”  
Whatever that meant, Archie decided quite quickly that he definitely didn’t want to know. 

Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones had their first proper conversation (of the 2+ word variety) when they were both nine going on nineteen. Some idiots had been teasing Kevin, throwing footballs at his face, and when Betty intercepted one with her fist, it had rebounded and hit Jughead full in the mouth instead.  
While the crowd gather around to get a good look at Jughead Jones’ split lip, Betty Cooper had leaped forward with a million and one apologies and an attempt to staunch his bleeding lip with a Kleenex tissue. He’d offered her a truly horrifying grin, blood coating his teeth, and told her not to worry about it. And she’d smiled back, hesitantly at first, then more broadly as she realised he wasn’t going to take it back, and insisted the teacher let her sit with Archie and Jughead in the nurse’s room.  
And that was it. When you have to share a friend you both care about as much as Betty and Jughead cared about Archie, it is always easier to be friends yourself. Otherwise, you start competing. And then you start to ask questions, the answers to which you really don’t want to know. It wasn’t like it was a big thing. It was forgotten by next Tuesday, and for most of middle school Betty and Jughead communicated through little more than pleasantries when they were paired up in Biology and nodding when they saw each other in the halls. They knew it was difficult for Archie, trying to be friends with two such vastly different people, balancing his time between two groups so no one would feel alone. But Betty had always been fast friends with everyone, and Jughead had always been far too quick to forgive. Somehow, they got by.  
It stands out in Archie’s head as a moment of impact anyway, that meeting of Betty and Jughead, a collision of lives. In years to come, he would pinpoint that moment as the moment in which he lost them. Maybe not now, maybe not for a while, but it started Betty and Jughead down a road, at the end of which they would realise they had far more common ground than a mutual friend on the football team.  
In his mind’s eye, Archie sees that football arc through the air, and it’s like two worlds, his two worlds, momentarily intersect. He thinks maybe if he just moves a bit faster, stretches his fingers a bit further, he can tackle that football to the ground, and everything will be different- or rather, everything will be the same. They will belong to him, Archie, and him alone.  
He blinks and the image is gone, replaced by a smiling couple in borrowed clothes, and he knows he would give them all the happiness in the world, if only it was his to give.  
Moments of impact. God, does Archie know something about that. 

Here’s how it happened.  
At approximately 8:45 in the evening Archie left Veronica Lodge scrolling through some buzzfeed article Cheryl had sent her, headed for the nearby garage. At 8:47, Archie pulled up his hood to shield against the drizzling rain. At 8:53, Archie rounded the corner to his house, only to notice a nondescript white van neatly shielded from sight on the Cooper’s front lawn. At 8:54, two eerily familiar men in steely grey uniforms and a dumpy woman with hair that matched exit the van and enter through the front door. At 8:55, he re-enters his bedroom to ask Veronica if Betty knew she had to get out.  
Only to find Ronnie halfway out the window, arms braced on either side of a ladder.  
Betty had made a bridge between their windows by hooking the ladder onto her windowsill at one end and asking Veronica to hold it still at the other, and she was already halfway across.  
It took Archie a good couple of seconds to process the evidence of his eyes, to hear Veronica’s urgent pleading for Betty to go back above the pitter patter of the rain. And, in that time, Betty began to fall.  
Not seriously- she banged her forearms hard, and the ladder lurched with a sickening swoop to Archie’s gut, almost dislodging Betty and prompting a quickly stifled scream from Ronnie which made the world flash red. Heart in his mouth, Archie all but fell to the window beside Ronnie, arms braced on either side of hers, pushing down on the ladder with all the strength he could muster and muttering a quick prayer to whatever deity was out there that it would be enough.  
“Turn back, B, we’ll figure something else out, please God turn back.” Ronnie pleaded, but it was far too late for any of that, and Betty’s face was set in an expression Archie knew all too well meant there was no discussion to be had.  
Trembling in a way that had the whole ladder shaking, and with tears glazing her cheeks that might just have been rain, Betty Cooper edged forward on her hands and knees with slow but sure movements that Archie tried to measure in the disjointed pounding of his heart. When she reached close, Ronnie eased her hands out from under his, and he tried not to cry out with relief as she levied herself forward far enough to wrap her arms under Betty’s shoulder and lift her to her chest like a child, Archie taking a step back so the two of them could tumble inelegantly onto his bedroom carpet.  
“You were one of those kids who didn’t listen when the Blue Peter presenters told you not to try this at home, weren’t you?” Veronica managed to gasp, looking like she was about to cry and reaching out to grasp with shaking fingers at any part of Betty she could reach.  
“I nearly burned the kitchen down trying to make a model volcano.” Betty replied through chattering teeth.  
And just like that they were sobbing, or maybe laughing, their cries a keen beat in the centre of Archie’s chest as he hauled the ladder in through his window and shut the window with a decided snap, pulling the curtains closed for good measure and slumping into a sitting position beside them.  
“It’s over B, it’s over, it’s over, it’s over” Veronica was repeating, and when she looked at Archie he saw his own wide eyed shock reflected back at him.  
Laughter- Betty’s laughter- filled the room as she clung to her, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes and drizzle frosting her tightly bound hair. “No, V, it’s only just begun.”  
Archie suppressed a sharp sob, pinching the skin at his wrist to remind himself to stay focused. Only when she said that did he realised that when he’d come into his bedroom tonight, he’d seriously expected to watch his best friend fall and die. 

It was 2 hours before Alice Cooper finally calmed down enough to allow herself to be escorted out from Fred Andrew’s living room, and another hour before Fred deemed it safe enough to bring Betty down from the attic and drive her across to Judghead’s place. Which was good, because it took that long for the three of them to stop shaking, trying to persuade Betty to eat the crisps and candy Archie had bought at the garage what felt like at least 12 near death experiences ago.  
Betty didn’t talk on the drive over, her head rested on Ronnie’s shoulder and her hand clasped in Archie’s lap.  
She walked into Jughead’s outstretched arms without a word when they arrived, his chin resting on the crown of her head.  
“I didn’t think they’d do it, Juggie.” Was the only words of their whispered conversation Archie heard that night, but it was enough to shatter his heart into a thousand pieces for her, the girl who deserved the world and instead got this, shuffling in his sleeping bag and trying to ignore Kevin Keller’s foot in his face as he waited for sleep to come. 

They were all there when Jughead emerged from the bedroom the following morning, bleary eyed and pale as death. Ronnie, Kevin, Polly, Archie, Fred, Hermione... Even Cheryl, all squashed into Jughead’s tiny kitchenette, perched on countertops and sofa cushions and draped against the wall.  
“She’s sleeping.” Jughead announced to no one in particular, every eye turned his way. He ran a hand through his hair, something absurd and vulnerable about him without his signature beanie, sleep still crusting his eyes.  
“Do you have a plan?” Asked Polly, bouncing Jason on her lap, and there was something knowing and expectant in the look she gave him that made Archie think maybe he'd been missing more than just Jughead’s articles for the blue and gold over the past few weeks.  
Jughead gave her a wry smile. 

“That’s insane.” Betty told her sister, looking from one face to the other in the crowded back bedroom as she crosses her arms over her chest and pusheds herself up into a sitting position. Jughead plumped her pillow, and she gave him an amused, fond look which Archie carefully stored to tease his friend with later.  
“Jason had it all researched, Betty. Trust me, we went over every book the library could offer. If you get married, Jughead becomes your next of kin. Mum and dad can’t touch you.”  
“it becomes a lot more difficult, anyway.” Hermione corrected, looking at Jughead and Betty with an inscrutable look. “If I know Alice Cooper, she has her workarounds. But you’re technically an adult, Betty. It would be almost impossible to restrain you by going through the proper channels.”  
Polly shook her head. “She’s not going to go through the proper channels, and she’s not going to abide by any medical ethics that belong in the 21st century. The nuns are like something from the 40s, and they’ll take anyone up to the age of 21, but even they have stuff they consider sacred. If you’re married, mum might find it much harder to persuade them to take you. It’s a long shot, but-” she shrugged delicately. “At the very least, Jughead would have visiting rights.”  
“Because they showed so much respect for visiting rights when I came to see you.” Betty replied.  
“Yeah, they definitely seemed like the sort of people who’d respect the sanctity of marriage.” He gave Betty a long, searching look, interlocking his fingers with hers. “But anything’s worth a try. It’s your call.”  
“Juggie- I can’t ask this of you.”  
Archie’s friend just shrugged. “Sure you can.” When she continued to look dubious, Jughead reached up to cup her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “Look, I know it seems like a big thing. It is a big thing, and right now maybe it seems kinda insane. All I’m saying is maybe give it some time, and you might not think it’s as insane as it first appears?”  
His face was full of soft hope and uncertainty, a faint flush colouring his high cheekbone, and Betty seemed to catch his nervousness, leaning forward to press the quickest of kisses to his temple.  
“I’m not too sure about anything right now, Jughead Jones, but I sure as hell am certain about you. That isn’t the question here. I just want to make sure we’re doing the right thing, for the right reasons. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re not my out clause.”  
The room was suddenly too hot, too tight, and full of far too many people. Beside him, Archie’s dad cleared his throat with obvious discomfort. “Alright, everybody out. Let’s give them some space.”  
“Hang on- just one more thing.” Polly said, moving to sit on the bed beside her sister and covering Betty and Jughead’s entwined hands with one of her own. “Betty, if you do this, I want you to have Jason’s ring.”  
The entire room stiffened at the sound of Jason Blossom’s name, and Betty’s eyes shone wide.  
“That’s really generous-“ started Betty, in a carefully measured tone, her eyes darting between Jughead’s own nonplussed expression to her sister, Polly’s eyes filled with tears. “But there’s no way- I couldn’t possibly-”  
“Just hear me out, before you say no.” Polly interrupted firmly. “It would be a loan. Until Jughead amasses some funds from that =book of his, and he can buy you a proper ring for a proper fresh start. This ring has seen so much heart ache, Betts. Feuding and false starts and broken promises. I’d like for it to see a little happiness, a Romeo and Juliet story that doesn’t end in a death toll, before I give it to my son.”  
“Polly.” Whispered Betty, heart in her eyes as she leaned forward to embrace her sister. “Are you sure?”  
“Positive. That is-” Polly sought Cheryl, stood by the door with her hand covering her mouth and her cheeks heavy with inky tears. “If Cheryl doesn’t mind?”  
Cheryl lowered a trembling hand from her mouth, but her smile was wide as she said “I think JJ would have liked that. A lot.” 

Betty’s sickness somehow stopped after that, easing up slowly at first, then cutting off altogether, and Archie suddenly realised how much he’d missed her, sat at their lunch table with her bright smile. It was funny because she’d always been there, but somehow he felt as if she’d been away for a long trip, and they'd all been waiting to welcome her home.  
Betty and Jughead took to haunting thrift stores on their weekends off, on the lookout for battered paperbacks and black and white films, for Pink Floyd on Vinyl and soft cardigans Betty could mingle with Jughead’s endless dark plaid. And Archie liked to join them, sometimes, laughing at Betty’s attempts to teach Jughead how to turn old curtains into cushion covers and helping Kevin and Jellybean repaint the peeling walls.  
But sometimes he preferred to be alone, walking quickly round the side of his house so he wouldn’t have to see Alice Cooper’s vacant stare as she looked out at nothing, endlessly stirring an assuredly cold cup of tea. Which is why it comes as a surprise when he comes over one day to find that somewhere, somehow, Jughead’s tiny two bed flat had been turned into a home, complete with a workspace for the boy who’d never known where he might be doing his maths homework that night, and a room no bigger than a cupboard with Pink Floyd posters plastering the walls, so Jellybean would know that she always had a space to sleep, a space to call her own.  
As it turned out, Betty and Jughead’s home was a place, small though it was, with enough space for everyone to call their own. Archie didn’t think he’d ever gone over without bumping into someone- Ronnie sat in an armchair drinking Jughead’s coffee, Kevin rifling through Betty’s paperbacks and bemoaning her lack of taste, Josie and Val and Cheryl playing cards with Jellybean while Jughead rolled his eyes and Betty tried not to smile.  
He didn’t know how they could stand it, sometimes, all those people and all that noise. But then he remembered how rarely he’d been invited round to the Cooper’s, and how he’d barely ever gone to Jughead’s house at all, and he thought that maybe they felt lucky, maybe they were glad. Besides, Jughead liked his own space, and Betty liked peace and quiet once in a while. He was sure that if it got too much, they’d kick everyone out.  
There was no mention of marriage until a month later, when they simply slipped into a booth at Pops and announced that Betty Cooper had asked Jughead Jones to marry her, and he had said yes. Her way of announcing to the world, Archie supposed, that she would do things her own way, and that she would not be afraid.  
That Betty Cooper loved Jughead Jones, and that was the end of that. 

They got married in late Summer, 5 months after Alice Cooper had accused her daughter of pregnancy, and refused to believe her when she said she wasn’t about to give birth to the anti-Christ.  
It was a pretty simple ceremony. Archie stood at Jughead’s right while Veronica and Jellybean played bridesmaids, and everyone agreed that little Jason did a beautiful job when he handed his new Uncle Juggie the rings, Polly coming very close to tears as she announced her sister and Jughead Jones were husband and wife. Pop set up a stall down by the lake and gave everyone free milkshakes, and Ronnie sat with Cheryl’s head in her lap, their feet leaning into the current down by the water’s edge. Kevin brought Joaquin, and Joaquin proved highly useful in preventing the champagne supplied by Sherrif Keller coming anywhere near FP’s lips.  
And when it got dark, Fred Andrews rallied a group of Doiley’s scouts and got a bonfire going, the Pussycats and Archie swapping songs and pretending like it wasn’t some kind of competition. And Betty and Jughead... Betty and Jughead were happy just observing it all, talking with their eyebrows and soft touches and looks Veronica pronounced in her speech as “swoon”.  
It gets later, and the crowd gets a little merrier, and Archie thinks that when he looked at them he sees what he should have been. Underneath the touches and the eyebrows and the lighter than air smiles. He should have been there for them, and they never should have been his back-ups, his last resorts. He looks at them and he sees a window box and a fist, milkshakes and cheese on toast and marshmallows over a fire, road maps and musics and that first taste of snapps on his tongue. He looks at them and he sees comfort and safety and he hears laughter in a time when laughter was simple and came without a cost.  
And beyond that, he sees uncertainty, scary decisions and a big dark question mark hovering in his peripheral vision, and he’s not prepared and he can’t let go. Her past may be Betty and Archie, and his may be Archie and Jughead, but the future belongs to Betty and Jughead. And Archie... Archie has music.  
But Betty is counting on him, and for once he wants to be able to say that he didn’t let her down.  
So he blinks away the burning in his eyes, and presses play on the ancient projector he stole from the science labs, and watches as James Dean’s face fills the screen.  
“Rebel without a cause?” He hears Jughead’s smile rather than sees it, and imagines that Jughead must be wearing the impossible smile Archie’s only ever seen him direct at her.  
He walks the long way back to his car, trying his best not to trip over tree roots and taking his time to fill his lungs with the crisp night air, and by the time he gets there he has a text from Betty.  
Thank you. For the movie. For everything. B xo  
Archie closes his eyes and he sees his fingers outstretched, grappling for that football, and this time he’s going to make it, he’s going to do it, he’s going to knock it to the ground-  
Then he thinks about what Polly said, about how marriage is sacred, and he thinks about Jughead’s reply. For some people, nothing is sacred, and Archie thinks maybe these friendships might just be the same thing. Betty and Jughead weren’t something he was entitled to, and their friendship wasn’t some given, some guiding light through the tough decisions and the uncertainty of an ever changing world. For friendships to work, you needed to put the effort in, too. Maybe that was all marriage was. Maybe it was just Betty and Jughead’s way of telling each other that they were always going to put the effort in.  
Archie decides right there, right then that he’s not willing to lose them.  
Archie sees his phantom fingers outstretched before him, and he exhales slowly, opening his eyes and letting them go. He lets them go, because they were never his in the first place. And he makes a quiet vow of his own, climbing into the driver’s seat and staring hard at the road ahead. He’s not willing to lose them.  
From now on, he will always put the effort in.  
For now, however, he thinks he’s glad that Betty has Jughead, and Jughead has Betty. And he’s glad that he has music, because who knows? Maybe he’ll write a song about it some time.

**Author's Note:**

> So this ended up way longer than I intended, and I incorporated pretty much ever cliche ever along the way, but I really enjoyed playing with these characters and I'm super impressed you didn't give up on me halfway through! 
> 
> I'm thinking about doing something from Betty and Jughead's POV, since I ended up spending all 7,000 ish words of this fic in Archie's head, so I'm gonna do that shameless self promotion thing and say check back if you might be interested.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed!


End file.
